Another evening in limbo. Dinner eaten. Crap on TV. All the words that can be typed have been typed, at least for today. Too late to nap. Too early to sleep. Coat on. Out the door. Left into the dark alley doorways, or right towards the neon lights?
Both hold their dangers, and pleasures. It’s a matter of mood. To be the hunter or the hunted.
Neon it is. I entered the first bar along. It was empty but for the bartender. I asked him where everyone was. He grunted and walked away. Four more bars, same thing. Wrong Way.